


boom

by mnemememory



Series: black powder [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, I think I'm funny, Time Travel Fix-It, crack treated with vague seriousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 00:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemememory/pseuds/mnemememory
Summary: Caleb literally trips over the answer to his dreams. On par with the rest of his life, it gives him a concussion.(or; time travel - recommended for treatment of ongoing trauma)





	boom

...

...

**boom**

...

...

Caleb literally trips over the answer to his dreams. On par with the rest of his life, it gives him a concussion.

Nott scrambles up from where she’s pouring acid into a vial. It sprays across the wooden floorboards and promptly begins to dissolve its way towards the first floor. Nott pays this very little mind, sprinting across the room at a breakneck pace and dropping to her knees next to Caleb’s still body.

“ _Caleb_ ,” she says, pinching desperately at his cheeks. He groans, but refuses to open his eyes. Nott squeezes harder. There will be bruises, later. Very oddly shaped bruises.

“I don’t think –” Fjord begins to say, and then cuts himself off as Nott turns her wrathful gaze onto him.

“Go. Get. Jester.”

Fjord nods and hurries out of the room, trying to look as though the _reason_ he’s rushing is because he’s worried about his friend. The homicidal, slightly manic look in Nott’s eyes does not bode well.

(Neither does the growing hole in their floor).

Nott turns her attention back to where Caleb is still on the ground, still groaning but not opening his eyes, still breathing (but for _how long_?). Nott presses her ear to his chest and listens to his heartbeat, her own sounding a little unsteady as blood roars through her ears.

Jester barges into the room, spells sparking pink on her fingertips, face a mask of blind panic.

“What happened?” she says, crouching next to Caleb and slapping him non-too gently in the face. The only reason Nott moves it because Jester is a healer, and also maybe because she could (theoretically) smack Nott by accident and send her flying into the wall. Jester tended to get a little…overenthusiastic, when she actually deigned someone bed off enough to be in need of her healing. It had happened before.

Nott points with a low hiss at the offending object – the dodecahedron, sitting out of Jester’s pink backpack, glowing faintly in the dim lighting. Caleb had taken it out to study, but had gotten frustrated halfway through and started pacing. Nott hadn’t been paying too much attention at that point, but now she wishes she had been.

From where Nott is sitting, it looks unbearably smug with the situation – insomuch as an inanimate (probably inanimate, _Nott is onto it_ ) object can express emotion. She kind of wants to grab it and throw it down the stairs. 

Just as Jester is about to shock a spell into Caleb’s body, he gives a low gasp and lurches forward, eyes flying open. In his rush, he headbutts Jester, and is immediately knocked back onto the ground in a daze. Jester, unbalanced by the unexpectedness of the attack, falls onto her butt.

“I can see it,” Caleb rasps, reaching out to grab Jester’s wrist in a vice-like grip. “I can see it all. There’s – there’s _so much_ of it, Jester, there’s –”

“FUCK!” someone yells, downstairs, as acid drips onto their head.

…

…

There are still only three cups.

“I thought I had more time,” Caduces says, mouth quirked slyly as he picks up his own cup of tea to take a long drink from it. They’re all piled outside his house in the cemetery, overgrown canopy dappling the sunlight green and grey. Most of them have found indifferent purchase on the graves, except for Molly, who is sitting on the ground. “I didn’t know when you would show up.”

Caleb’s smile is unbearably fond. “Never change,” he says.

Caduces gives them all a proper grin, teeth showing and eyes lazy. “Oh, I doubt that will be a problem,” he says. He looks at Molly. “And who is this? Your friend?”

“ _Your_ friend, too, now,” Nott says. She’s bundled herself next to Caduces to ward off the slight chill in the air, foregoing the tea in favour or something heavier.

“Of course,” Caduces says, face unchanging.

“Mollymauk Tealeaf, a pleasure to be at your acquaintance,” Molly says. He starts to get up, but Yasha just grabs the back of his ridiculous coat and pulls him back to the ground.

“Don’t bother,” she says, taking a small sip of tea. She passes the cup to Molly.

“Mr. Clay,” Caduces introduces himself, nodding his head in a slight bow. “This is just delightful. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And I’ve certainly heard a lot about you,” Molly says, which isn’t exactly a _lie_ per say, but they hadn’t really gone out of their way to explain…well, Caduces to him. Yasha had taken a tiny bit of savage glee in the jealousy generated from the pink mohawk. “Though I would certainly _love_ to know just how you met my wonderful travelling companions. Everyone certainly seems very comfortable with each other.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Beau says through a yawn, basking in the sunlight. She had balanced herself between two graves – the names chipped clean, though the words “I TOLD YOU I WAS –” could be vaguely made out beneath the ivy – and was lying back with the kind of peace that can only be found in a graveyard, surrounded by friends. “I only met you a month ago.”

Molly squints at her suspiciously.

“I’ve heard only good things,” Caduces reassures him.

“…likewise,” Molly says, after a long moment. He drags out a showman smile, bigger than life and twice as wide. “When did you say the last time you left this place was, again?”

“It’s been – hmm – twenty seasons, now? Eighteen?”

“Okay, _what the –”_

…

…

Yasha leaves, as Yasha is want to do.

“I’ll be back in a month,” she says, the storm an intense backdrop to the glare she gives them all. “Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

“We’ll try not to!” Nott says, giving her a quick hug. Molly has stopped reacting to these open displays of affection now, but Yasha can tell it still startles him in the moment. She has never been an overly affectionate person – that has always been Molly’s bit. Despite her own…slight…overprotectiveness of him, she’s managed to keep it together well enough to fool composure. If Yasha is anything, she is an actor.

(Somewhere along the way, she’s become something so much more).

Yasha crosses her arms and stares them down, daring any of them to even get a _scratch_ while she’s gone. Then she turns to Molly.

“if you die,” she says, enunciating the words very clearly. “I will kill you.”

He arches an eyebrow and twists out a smirk. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, and reaches up to press a kiss to her cheek. “Like I would _ever_ do that to you.”

Yasha looks back at the group, who all – to varying degrees – look as though they’ve been sucker-punched straight to the gut. _What a dick_ , she thinks.

“If _any_ of you die,” she begins.”

Beau rolls her eyes and shoves her forward, darting in front of her to brush a quick kiss over her lips. It’s over before Yasha has time to react.

“Get going, already,” she says. “We’ll still be around when you get back.”

Yasha goes.

(They’re still there when she gets back).

…

…

“Keg!”

“What the fuck?”

Keg jumps back a good fives paces as two overly enthusiastic (and five less enthusiastic but _still present_ ) bodies surround her. She’s tired, she hasn’t slept in a good two days, and she’s run out of booze. Today probably isn’t a good day to antagonise her.

“Oh, Keg,” Nott says, latching onto her arm and hugging her.

Keg stares down at the little halfling (is this a halfling? Keg can’t tell, the creepy mask is blocking pretty much everything) with undisguised horror. “ _What the fuck_ ,” she says, again.

“It’s been so long!” Beau says, sweeping both Keg and Nott up with an impressive show of strength. Keg grunts and tries to wriggle out of their grasp, but despite getting in a good kick to the kidney, Beau doesn’t let go.

“Who are you?” Keg yells.

“I’m so glad this isn’t just me,” someone tall and purple says off to the corner of her peripheral. Keg chooses to ignore that, because she has more pressing concerns. Namely, _what the actual fuck_.

…

…

They pick up someone who can turn into a horse, because of course they do.

Keg doesn’t even know if she’s supposed to be surprised by anything anymore. Honestly, it’s all just one massive alcohol-fuelled blur at this point.  

…

…

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Molly turns slowly to face Yasha, who is looking at him with the kind of crazy eyes he’s been seeing more and more often the longer they stay with this group of rabid maniacs. No offense intended – he enjoys the odd rabid maniac as much as the next person (probably more, if he’s going to be honest) – but Molly isn’t sure he’s enjoying _just how much_ Yasha is being dragged in. He’s used to the almost claustrophobic (but not quite) closeness that she radiates simply by being in the same room; warmth, really. Molly has had so little warmth.

This does seem a bit excessive, though.

“Into the house?” he says, gesturing vaguely with his sword. On the other side of the compound, Nott is murdering a set of guards with the kind of stealth Beau _wishes_ that she possessed.

“I don’t think so,” Yasha says.

“ _What?_ Why?”

“Yasha points to a log. “Sit. Stay.”

Molly gapes at her. “I most certainly will not!”

“Shh,” Fjord says, off to the side. “We are _trying_ to be _sneaky_.”

“You as well,” Yasha says. She hasn’t stopped pointing.

“Nice try, Yasha.”

Yasha shrugs and then goes back to glaring at Molly, which is almost a reflex these days. Molly still isn’t sure what he _did_ to warrant such an extreme reaction, but as soon as he figures it out he’s going to fix it.

He still isn’t entirely sure how they ended up here, anyway. They had met the delightful Keg on their way back from Shady Creek Run with Caduces ambling along with them, only to immediately turn heel and start _back_ towards the (veritable) hellhole as soon as they met up with Keg. _Almost certainly planned_ , Molly thinks darkly – or he would, if Keg didn’t exist in such an obvious and perpetual state of confusion.

“If I told you,” Fjord says with an easy kind of confidence. “That this was a one-off, trauma-based paranoia, and we would never, ever ask you to sit out of a fight like this again – would you concede to staying behind?”

“Absolutely not,” Molly says. “The only way you’re keeping me out of this is if you tie me to a tree.”

…

…

They tie him to a tree.

…

…

“You shouldn’t worry so much about it,” Caduces says, when they’re heading back (for real, this time) and their shared watch drags long. “They’re – well – they’re only worried about you, you know. It’s almost endearing.”

Molly bares his teeth and lashes out his tail, frustration building hot. “I’m not helpless,” he says.

“No,” Caduces agrees.

Molly flicks him a narrow look. “But you agree with them.”

“In this case, yes,” Caduces says. “But, well, only because they would have been very distracted with you there. You have noticed that, right? That you’re very distracting?”

“I am aware,” Molly says. It’s a struggle to keep a smile fixed in place, but that’s nothing new. At every turn, his new travelling companions are finding new and impossible ways to dazzle him with their bullshit. It’s an impressive feat, since he finds them so delightful that he doesn’t even mind it half the time.

“It won’t happen again,” Caduces says. “I’ll, well – I’d better talk to them about it. It is getting a little silly.”

“Just a bit,” Molly says.

They sit together in warm, companionable silence, watching over their sleeping friends and waiting for morning to come.

…

…

They're thrown out of the inn.

It isn’t one they frequent very often, which is probably why Nott’s little “accident” comes as such a surprise. Anywhere they stay at for more than a week is bound to take at least _some_ wear and tear – something that usually comes out of their shared budget. A lot of their regular holes are just charging upfront for damages, now, which is probably for the best.

“So what do we did we lean from this?” Fjord says. He still looks slightly stunned from the ferocity of their departure. The managed had actually come down from his office and loudly counted “one, two, three, four…” outside of their doors as they had scrambled to gather everything together, culminating in a shouting “YOUR FIVE MINUTES ARE UP!” and a swift boot to the backside. Nominating Jester to be the one to smooth things over had, in hindsight, been a bad idea.

“Absolutely nothing,” Caduces says, looking a little disgruntled at hanging been working up so rudely. Naps always did wonders for his composure, and a lack of sleep was an unfortunate necessity while travelling on the roads that had lead to this town.

“I need to get some things,” Caleb says, visibly dazed. There’s an ugly bruise forming high on his temple, and his eyes gleam with a frenzied sheen that seems to have very little to do with his recent (possibly ongoing?) concussion. “We should – go buy some – I should go and –”

Someone clears their throat pointedly behind them.

Caleb turns around to see Beau glaring at the group, leading Yasha forward by the hand. She looks simultaneously unimpressed and unsurprised.

“We’ve only been here three hours,” she says.

Her presence seems to have snapped Caleb _out_ of his state of confusion, only for mania to take hold. “I have so much work to do!” he shouts, waving his arms around like a crazy person. Then he runs off.

They all stare after him for a long second.

“Not it,” Beau says, finger on her nose.

“You can’t be –”

“NOT IT!” Jester yells.

“Not it.”

“Not it.”

“ _I’ll_ go find him,” Nott huffs, storming after Caleb without a backwards glance.

…

…

Here’s the thing: on his knees on the floor of their (new) shared inn room, his friends curled up in unconscious grumpy balls along the wall, Caleb has _no idea_ what he’s doing.

Somehow, it works out anyway.

…

…

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little nervous about posting this, but I hope you enjoy it! It was certainly very enjoyable to write, haha.
> 
> Probs won't update this for a bit, cause I kind of skipped around through canon a little faster than I thought it would, but hey. I have some thoughts on more individual-based stories in this AU, so we'll see where that takes us :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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